The Domino Effect
by hikomokushi
Summary: Everything starts with something, a catalyst; like the cauterizing of a wound. GaaSaku. 30 one-shots written to the 30 kisses LiveJournal prompts.
1. look over here

**Author/Artist:** Hiko Mokushi / plural_entity.  
**Pairing:** Sabaku no Gaara x Haruno Sakura.  
**Community/Fandom:** **30_kisses**/Naruto.  
**Theme:** #1 — look over here.  
**Rating:** PG.  
**Disclaimer:** Kishimoto-sensei owns, of course.

**Author Notes:** I'm supposed to be writing for **dmhgficexchange** on livejournal. But I couldn't get these two out of my head. So, in order for me to actually be able to finish that Dramione fiction, I had to get something out. Try to suck GaaSaku from my head. I recently fell in love with this pairing. It's not as big as KakaSaku, but I do believe I've found my OT3: KakaSakuGaa. It would be hot.

Un-beta-ed. I may have found a beta, though if anybody else wishes to volunteer, I'd be much obliged.

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Sakura touched his cheek and marveled at how smooth a corpse could feel. It was everything and nothing underneath her fingertips. Like touching a blown-glass bowl or the ivory keys of a proper piano. Except the bowl was empty, or maybe filled with poison, and the ivory keys had long since been tarnished, forgotten and out of tune.

Everything and nothing.

Everything her childhood was made of, her future planned for. And nothing of any real importance—not to her, not anymore.

Gingerly, she passed the palm of her hand over the ghostly pale face of Uchiha Sasuke and wondered if he had died with his eyes closed—unwilling to see the end, to acknowledge... What? His wrongful choices? The friends he'd left behind? The battlefields of blood, the destruction in his wake? The countless faceless ninja who did not deserve to die this way? She wondered if somebody had cared enough to close his sightless black eyes or if they had merely been too unnerved by the cold stare a mass murderer could summon even in death. Her entire future was laid on the ground in front of her, forever gone, and she could do nothing but peer blankly down at his limp, lifeless body. A part of her wanted to know if this hollow feeling in her chest was wrong. She should care. She should... but she didn't even know if she could. She could only hope the hollow feeling would go away, would fade with time, would fill with something, anything, just so long as it was better.

"It was Naruto," whispered Lee, his hand on her shoulder. Almost as an afterthought, her fingertips covered his in some gesture of mutual comfort. "Gaara may have helped, but in the end, it was Naruto."

Sakura released him and braced her hands against her knees as she rose to her feet. Lee glanced down at her from underneath bushy eyebrows. "Are you alright?"

"Where is Naruto?" She could not answer his question. Not at this moment. She wasn't sure what she felt. There was anger, yes; at the situation, at the number of bodies she'd put back together only to be rent apart again, at the stubbornness of boys, at the ambition she'd never understand. There was confusion, there was guilt, there was acceptance and maybe even a little sadness. But the emotions warred within her to a boiling point, then simply evaporated and escaped. She could spend no time lingering on emotions when there was so much to do and so many people to be there for.

It wasn't about her. It was never about her.

It was about them.

It had always been about them.

Lee pointed to a rocky outcropping a short walk away.

Four silhouettes caught her eye in the slowly fading light. Sakura nodded to Lee, who looked only slightly crestfallen back, and then went to join them.

The men were all taller than she, towering over her, some more than others. Shikamaru took a drag on his cigarette and waved with the two clenched fingers of his right hand. He sported a crisscross pattern of stitches across the top of his forehead and into the right brow. Kankurou stopped talking to look at her. His hood was back, brown hair matted against his scalp, and what was left of his smeared purple war paint was faded and dirt-streaked. Gaara was closest to her height, though she knew he'd developed a perpetual Shikamaru-like slouch that made his eyes almost level with hers. A small amount of blood still dripped from an untreated cut across his cheekbone, bright red against the ugly bruise that bloomed across the left side of his face. Naruto looked practically untouched, except for the blood on the sleeve of his right hand. Without words, she cut between the now-silent group and slid her arms about the blond's midsection. His left hand wrapped around loosely and patted her back. Inhaling deeply, she assured herself by touch and sight and smell of his presence, his vitality, his statue-like strength.

Kankurou cleared his throat and scratched his head. "I'll go talk to the men about gathering some wood for the fire," he said eventually, after an almost awkward, pregnant pause.

"I'll join you." Shikamaru dropped his cigarette and ground it out with the heel of his foot. "I'll report to the Hokage that everything's all set."

Sakura paid them little attention and rubbed her nose against Naruto's shirt. He smelled of sweat and dirt and blood, but underneath it, he was still Naruto. Gaara lingered, eyes politely focused on a point somewhere off towards the west—towards Suna, she figured. Other than his face, he was unharmed, and even with the bruise, he merely looked calm, almost serene in a pondering sort of manner. When Naruto shifted against her, she unwound her arms and stepped back to give him space.

There were no visible tears, but she could feel them within her if only blocked, partitioned off for secret and safe keeping; a private affair only permissible behind closed doors. Words burned in the back of her throat but they took no meaning, and died before they reached her tongue.

Eventually, it was Naruto who broke the intense, yet comfortable silence. "Kakashi-sensei said he would permit a funeral pyre. Even if he was a traitor, he was still a shinobi." The boy-turned-man faced the same direction as the Kazekage. "We'll hold it at sunset."

"It's over." Sakura took a deep breath, feeling as though, for the first time years, she could actually take a deep breath. The looming threat of Sasuke had not been a cross upon her back but a boulder upon her chest. She could breathe properly now, thanks to these men. Thanks to Naruto.

"Not quite," murmured Gaara in his quiet, rumbling voice, interrupting the moment. She almost wanted to frown at him, but she knew he was right and checked her irrational temper. "There are still pockets of rebellion. This was only the first of the last battles we'll face."

Naruto nodded grimly and something in Sakura's belly clenched. "Don't worry," he assured her, smiling weakly. Fatigue clouded his face, but his determination was not misplaced. "They will be nothing compared to this. More annoyances than threats." He sighed though and scratched the back of his head. "Kakashi is lighting the fire. You'll be there to watch, right, Sakura?"

She nodded, throat tight. "Of course, Naruto. " She returned his watery smile. "I'll stand at your side."

The young man touched her cheek with rough fingers before nodding to Gaara, and then walking in direction of their makeshift camp.

Gaara turned his eyes, thoughtful and intense to her, and she almost squirmed beneath his scrutiny. Instead, she smiled and stepped closer, fighting against the still-lingering urge to bolt. The demon may have been removed from his body but Sabaku no Gaara was still unlike the rest of them. "Thank you for keeping him safe," sighed Sakura.

"He did not need my help." Gaara blinked at the apology and focused his gaze over her shoulder. "He would have done fine without me."

"Moral support then," she acquiesced, a smile tugging the corner of her lips. "Besides... that _one_ time... I've never seen you get hurt." She lifted a hand and prodded a finger against the purplish swell of his cheek.

If it hurt, he did not flinch. "Without Shukaku, my protection is slightly more limited."

"Boys," Sakura muttered. "Always getting into trouble." Her fingers stretched upward, palm kissing his cheek. Gaara's left eye twitched at the increased touch but did not move to snatch her hand away; his eyes merely darkened as he narrowed them slightly. Of course, he would be suspicious of her actions even now, after nearly eight years. Her hand glowed faintly with green chakra. After a moment, she dropped her hand and retreated just a step. "A show of my gratitude." The cheek was slightly flushed, but the bruised tint was gone, leaving only a small amount of dried blood as evidence to the wound in the first place.

"Without him I would have been lost." She wondered when Gaara had grown up. Just over a head taller, he had grown into his hands and voice.

She smiled, almost co-conspiratorially as she turned to walk back to camp. "So would the rest of us."

Sakura did not wait to see if the Kazekage would follow.

Back at camp, the uninjured Yamato had erected a small platform of wood. Sasuke's body had been placed upon it, his arms neatly folded across his chest. Some ninja gathered around, whispering between themselves. As she neared Naruto's side, at the head of the pyre next to Kakashi, she could hear some of the exchange—some congratulated Naruto or mused over both Konoha's and Suna's losses. Not all the ninja at camp were present, but that was just as well. Not everyone believed the traitor deserved a decent, war-like shinobi funeral. However, Kakashi was Hokage—his word was law, so no one protested their opinions aloud.

Stopping at Naruto's side, she clasped hands with her teammate and attempted to smile encouragingly. Lee sat at her feet, casually reclining against her shin.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Kakashi performed a mild version of the Uchiha Fireball jutsu to set the boy's corpse ablaze. Dark hair danced in the flames, almost lifelike, and something caught in the back of her throat. The tears that had before welled only behind the wall of her well-placed shinobi beliefs seemed to instantaneously intensify, and she blinked rapidly, dry-swallowing a few times to quell the rush of emotions. Lee lifted a hand to shadow his face, and Kakashi closed his eyes against the waves of light and heat. Naruto stared into the flames without pause or hesitation. In spite of all her strength and knowledge, Sakura wished she were blessed with his brand of fortitude. She glanced away, focusing her eyes to the east, to Konoha, to hope, and prayed for strength.

In the distance, Gaara's silhouette still stood against the darkening sky, and she wondered if he wished for hope as well.

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_to be continued..._


	2. news, letter

**Author/Artist:** Hiko Mokushi / plural_entity.  
**Pairing:** Sabaku no Gaara x Haruno Sakura.  
**Community/Fandom:** **30_kisses**/Naruto.  
**Theme:** #2 — news; letter.  
**Rating:** PG-13, for language.  
**Disclaimer:** Kishimoto-sensei owns, of course.

**Author Notes:** Glad to see I could get some GaaSaku fans to like me. (= I just wanna be popularrr. *whine* Ah well. Popularity is overrated. For the few of you who deign to give reviews, I give lots of love and cookies. GaaSaku romance must be taken slowly. (Except smut. That needs to be taken _fast_.) Thus, as a series of connected one-shots, it will take a while to get to the _actual_ kissing. Or hand-holding. Or staring into each other's eyes. Sorry if I bore anybody with my metaphoric dawdling.

I'll probably update on mondays. These seem to come easier than my other stuff. Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

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They were somewhere on the outskirts of Suna.

It was close enough inland of the border that the days were long and blisteringly hot, to the point that between the hours of ten and four, when the sun was hottest, everyone stayed in their tents. Thankfully, they were far enough away from the main portion of the desert that what little sandstorms cropped up were easily dealt with by merely closing the flap of your tent and getting some extra rest.

Their small squadron had been settled there near a month, and truth be told, it was _little_ squadron. Sixteen permanently-placed ninja and four runners that came and went; ten from both Suna and Konoha. Sixteen hot, sweaty, miserable ninja, who did nothing more than sit around and wait for letters.

Sakura had never hated the desert more. And she'd actually _liked_ the desert the few times she'd been there.

The heat made her irritable, the other eighteen men made her irritable, the sand made her irritable. The only thing in the godforsaken camp in the middle of nowhere that didn't make her irritable was the Kazekage's sister, Temari.

Stuck out here, in the middle of nowhere, she felt useless. Technically, their little outpost was important in the grand scheme of things. Gaara and Naruto had certainly been right. There were tiny revolts occurring all over the countries. They were small and painfully insignificant, but little bits and pieces of Orochimaru's minions—fueled by the finally-ended Akatsuki activities—were cropping up everywhere. Abandoned experiments, forgotten lovers, and even some misplaced worshippers and the ninja lands were in a somewhat organized chaos. Once seen to, the uprisings could easily be controlled and sufficiently stamped out—it just took a little while to get there.

Konoha and Suna were leading the way for a full-scale ninja alliance, and both Kages were at the forefront. Considering the fact that both Villages were minus their leaders, the Kages had—nearly unwillingly—left their Villages in the hands of their Elders. With the promise that they would receive full reports on how the Villages were doing in return for reports on their mission status. And Sakura was stuck, smack dab in the middle of it—a post office.

"I swear on Gaara's _life_, if one of them so much as_ looks_ at me the wrong way again, they're going to get a kiss from my fan."

Sakura glanced up from the medical book in her lap as Temari snapped the tent flap closed, and chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Which one was it this time? Enishi or Keigo?" There were only four tents to their little home away from home: the four runners had one, the seven Konoha ninja had a tent and the seven Suna ninja had a tent. And then, just because they were the only two women amongst the men, Temari and Sakura had their own tent all to themselves. In the beginning, it had caused a bit of a commotion until Naruto and Gaara had had their say. Now, the men just leered.

"I don't know," the woman replied, leaning over a small porcelain bowl at one side of the tent. She dipped her hands in and lifted some water to her face, soothing the wind-burned skin. "I don't match faces with names, they're all just animals. How long did they say it'd be before we got to go back to some form of civilization?"

"Well, Naruto said in his last letter that they were going to be late, but I think the Kazekage should be arriving on time." Sakura stretched her arms over her head as she leaned back on her cot, thin tank top ghosting over the skin of her belly. She lifted it higher, tucking it about her bindings so that her stomach and spine cooled. "Maybe we should think about not walking around half naked. We do sort of ask for it."

Temari pulled her top off and stood in the middle of the tent in just her bindings, wiping sweat off her shoulders and the small of her back. "Fuck them." She rolled her shoulders, dipping the corner of the handkerchief into the water and wiping at her neck. She sighed and closed her eyes. "They should understand that as two women, we are not merely objects to be ogled. If Gaara were here, he would make sure they stopped looking..."

"If the Kazekage were here, they wouldn't have looked in the first place." Sakura chuckled, imagining both sets of shinobi running scared from the Sand's great leader and his vicious, icy glare. "But then again, we probably wouldn't be so hot. He could just glare at us and we'd be shivering."

"He's not so bad. Once you get to know him." The other woman laid down on her cot across the room, hands pillowing her head as she stared at the ceiling. Sakura glanced over at her, expression curious. "I mean, when we were younger, yeah. But after Naruto, he really turned around. Back then, not a day went by that I wasn't scared of him. Sometimes, when he looked at me, I honestly feared for my very life. I thought he was the devil incarnate, brought about by my mother's bloody death and my father's fierce hatred for everything kind and gentle. He was the personification of both of their enmity—for Suna and for each other. He'd look at me and I'd wonder if it was the end." She chuckled, but it sounded sort of hollow, and Sakura wondered how their conversation had taken such a fierce turn. "I remember praying that he'd remember I was his older sister in the end and at least, he'd make it quick."

Sakura bit her lip. "That's horrible, Temari."

Temari closed her eyes. "I know." She licked her cracked lips and sighed again. "I know. It's true. But now... After you and Chiyo-sama brought him back to life, he hugged me. For the first time in his entire life. I wasn't sure he even knew what a hug was. But he just clung to me. For once, he could actually sleep, but he couldn't. He'd wake in a cold sweat after under an hour. He'd scream and thrash. He attacked people. The nightmares just got to him. The medics tried everything from merely wasting his chakra supply completely—which took forever, by the way—to sleep aids, to full on tranquilizers, narcotics, even alcohol." She turned her head slightly to glance at the pink-haired woman and smirked. "Gaara's the same drunk as he is sober—he just blinks more."

"Nothing worked?" asked Sakura. She couldn't find it in her to be horrified. The idea of Suna's once-great monster unable to sleep because of a few nightmares was almost mind-boggling, but she'd believe anything nowadays. He'd played lead in a few nasty ones of her own.

The woman shrugged. "After a while, we just left him alone. He lived for fifteen years without sleep, he could go a few more while we figured something out. We'd ask if he'd tried sleeping every so often, but he wouldn't answer. Eventually, we just gave up. I've seen him sleep once, though. Truly sleep. It happens every once in a while." She smiled. "He looks so peaceful. As though his life never happened."

"The markings around his eyes were from the insomnia, if he can sleep, shouldn't those go away?" She pursed her lips.

"I don't know. He doesn't get as much sleep as he should, so maybe not. Maybe they're permanently there. Not that anybody cares. The girls in Suna say they make him look more dashing."

"He certainly does have a following." Sakura giggled at the thought. She'd thought she and Ino were bad when they were younger; they had nothing on the young girls that stalked the Kazekage. "The Kazekage should be back in few days. They'll rest around and then we can head somewhere. Naruto and Kakashi and the rest of them can meet us there. Somewhere with fresh water and not well water, and air conditioning and proper showers."

Temari sighed. "And real food," she added. "We're closer to Suna than Konoha, if you could stand any more of the desert."

"As long as you have showers." Sakura's stomach growled. She closed her eyes and she rubbed her fingers along her exposed belly. "And _real food_."

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_to be continued..._


	3. jolt!

**Author/Artist:** Hiko Mokushi / plural_entity.  
**Pairing:** Sabaku no Gaara x Haruno Sakura.  
**Community/Fandom:** **30_kisses**/Naruto.  
**Theme:** #3 — jolt!  
**Rating:** PG-13, for language.  
**Disclaimer:** Kishimoto-sensei owns, of course.  
**Author Notes:** Doing all this reminds me of doing _25 Moments_. (= Thanks to **Peach Tuesday's** and **Twisted Musalih** who reviewed both of my pieces. I love when people stick with me through an entire process. I would never have finished _25 Moments_ if not for a couple people who reviewed every time. They really made me feel like I was doing something productive and not just rambling incessantly.

xD And also, Happy Birthday Gaara! I may write something special later this week.

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"Gaara's late." Temari was perched on a tall dune of sand, cleaning underneath her nails with a dull kunai. The weapon had been perfectly sharp a few days before, but the Suna kunoichi had taken it to a tree Tenzou had grown for practice that morning. However, after some teasing on her part, Sakura was in no need to trim her bangs; a severely fierce throw had proved the kunai was still sharp enough to be lethal.

She huffed and shifted at the base of the dune. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she glanced up at the blond woman seated above her. "It's barely sun-high, give him time."

Temari huffed this time. "He's always on time. If not, he always sends word."

"Maybe he sent Shiro ahead with a letter?" she suggested, shrugging her shoulders. She understood the antics of Suna's Kage less than his sister. "Or maybe they're just late and Shiro's traveling back with them, to be safe."

Temari pursed her lips in a frown. "I still don't like it."

"Not much to like about any of this situation." It made Sakura nervous as well. They were a post office, not a fighting force. Their little outpost could defend itself—there was a reason those such as Tenzou, Temari and herself were posted here and not out with the real offense. But there would still be more casualties than Sakura cared to think about.

It wasn't until later that evening that Shiro arrived, out of breath and exhausted, back at camp. His face looked weary, uninjured, but haunted. "I ran as fast as I could, Haruna-sama," he wheezed, and Sakura frowned. After Tsunade's death, some of the Konoha ninja had taken to calling her by her master's title. "It's from the Kazekage." Behind her, Sakura could sense Temari stiffening.

Sakura took the scroll and tore at the seal with haste, kneeling to spread it on the ground before them. Termari leaned over her to read, mindful of her shadow and braced herself on Sakura's shoulder. The medic-nin frowned. Out of caution, all correspondence between Villages and squadrons was to be written in code—this was not. We can only hope it's not a forgery, Sakura thought. _And that Shiro's not under some genjutsu_. She briefly entertained ideas of how she could dispel such a jutsu without Shiro's notice. Anyone who could charm one of Konoha's top runners had probably ensured that, should Shiro be found out, he would take drastic measures to keep the jutsu from being traced. The letter, however, was more pressing; it was in its entirety, four lines:

_Remember your Sensei's lesson, Sakura.  
__"Look Underneath the Underneath."  
__Little voices have big eyes and wandering tongues.  
__Will come as fast as the Sand flies_.

Beneath it, in lieu of a proper signature, was five fingerprints in what appeared to be blood. The letter was obviously scrawled in a hurry. Temari knelt down at her side and leaned over, she sniffed the page and nodded. "It's Gaara's alright," she said evenly. She went to open her mouth to the Konoha runner when Sakura interrupted.

"Shiro-san, go tell everyone to prepare for the Kazekage. There may be a battle coming."

Looking worried, the ninja bowed and left. Temari, however, turned to her. "Why lie? He's your own," she asked, brows furrowed deeply. "They should know that Gaara suspects a spy."

The woman's frown was copied on Sakura's face. "Even a Konoha-nin could be the spy. If it's Shiro, I don't want to let him know we're onto him."

"If Gaara suspected Shiro, he wouldn't have let him return to camp," said Temari with finality, after a very pregnant pause. Despite the double meaning behind Temari's words, Sakura could only hope that Gaara knew who the spy was... And that their team would arrive very soon.

"I'll take first watch," she said eventually, controlling her breathing. It would give her time to think. Temari agreed.

Sakura spent her watch out on the dune where she and Temari had lazed earlier, sifting sand through her fingers. She wanted this war, this conflict, over with. She wanted to go home and take a proper bath, eat a proper meal, sleep in a proper bed and not a trundle cot. Over eight years as a ninja and she'd never known anything but warfare. She was sick of it. She often wondered if the scent of blood would ever be washed from her hands. It did not seem likely. Sighing, Sakura tugged her cloak tighter about her shoulders before she fell back against the sand, cradling the back of her head in her palms. The night sky was probably the best part about the desert.

Her eyes fluttered shut. _I wonder when the Kazekage is going to arrive..._

_"SAKURA!"_

Temari's shriek caused her to jump to her feet. Her cloak tangled about her feet, tripping her. She tumbled halfway down the dune before she was able to right herself and run toward camp. Temari stood in the middle of the camp, staring blankly ahead. Sakura slowed, breathing heavily. She clutched at a sharp pain her side—she was getting out of shape with all this lounging around. "Temari, what the hell?" she gasped, stumbling towards the woman.

Slowly, Temari raised her head. "Run." The air around her shimmered and a behemoth of a man with bright orange hair stood behind her, his arms wrapped about her, squeezing. Sakura could already see that both of Temari's arms had been dislocated.

"Wha—?" Lips fluttered against her cheek, soft as smoke, and she turned, swinging.

The first thing she saw was the crimson hair as it avoided her chakra-laden fist by inches. Once out of range, a girl Sakura knew only by Karin smirked cruelly with glossy lips. "Haruno Sakura," she sneered. Her dark red eyes narrowed furiously. _"You killed Sasuke!"_

Sakura dodged the first punch, retreating a few feet before throwing her own. Her hand whisked ghostly through red hair, and she threw her head back as the second punch passed inches from her nose. Grabbing the arm, Sakura pulled Karin close, but Karin's free hand tangled in her hair and pulled it to the side. Sakura started to cry out, but the sound was cut off as the woman landed her third punch. It was too high. Somewhere inside her, something cracked. Karin let her go and slapped her in the face. The force split her lip and cut the inside of her cheek, but as Karin panted before her, she grinned.

"You shouldn't get within range, you know." Sakura back-handed the woman as fiercely as she could, launching her into Juugo and Temari. She watched as the ninja let go of the Suna ninja to catch Karin.

Her chest was on fire as she tried to draw breath. _I've let myself get out of shape._

Unable to continue supporting her, her legs gave out, but Tenzou caught her before she hit the ground. "Sakura-sama, what's going on?" Their squadron was slowly starting to emerge from the genjutsu they'd been under. Someone had carried Temari to her side, and the medic-nin struggled to free her feet from the sand, her sandals leaking sand as she Tenzou helped her into a sitting position.

Her hand settled on Temari's shoulder, glowing green. "I can heal her," she said, out of breath.

The pain of having both arms wrenched from their sockets would have been too much for nearly anyone—the woman had passed out. "Form a circle, I need to see to Temari. The Kazekage should be on his way. We'll have to hold out until he gets here." Virdian eyes narrowed angrily as she watched Karin and Juugu get slowly to their feet. Her vision was hazy, but determined as she rotated Temari's limp arm, soothing the muscles with chakra in an attempt to work the bone back into the joint. "There's only two of them."

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_to be continued.._


	4. our distance and that person

**Author/Artist:** Hiko Mokushi / plural_entity.  
**Pairing:** Sabaku no Gaara x Haruno Sakura.  
**Community/Fandom:** **30_kisses**/Naruto.  
**Theme:** #4 — our distance and that person.  
**Rating:** PG-13, for language.  
**Disclaimer:** Kishimoto-sensei owns, of course.

**Author Notes:** Just saying, but if you leave a review with a question, how about leaving me some way of answering it other than taking up space by putting it in my AN and hoping you continue to read. I had a question from an unregistered reviewer ("good writer") who asked about the **30kisses** prompts and weren't they supposed to have a kiss of some form physical/metaphorical within the fic; obviously they could not find it. Yes, the prompts must include some kind of kiss. If there isn't an actual physical kiss, you can bet it'll be said in either some form or a metaphorical kiss—but that doesn't mean I have to _say_ "kiss" in every one, as long as it happens. Saying "kiss" over and over in 30 fics is just going to get repetitive, at least for me. Sometimes, I'm gonna make you search. For those playing the home game, I'll give a short recap:

Chapter 1—Sakura put her hand on Gaara's cheek, "Her fingers stretched upward, palm kissing his cheek."  
Chapter 2—Temari said she'd hit the men if they ogling her, "they're going to get a kiss from my fan."  
Chapter 3—Karin kissed Sakura's cheek, "Lips fluttered against her cheek, soft as smoke, and she turned, swinging."

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_Something was smothering her._

_It felt as though a pillow was shoved over her nose and mouth, pressing down on her. The pressure wasn't strong, merely persistent. As much as she thrashed, it would not dislodge. No matter what way she turned, it would not move._

_She could not see._

_She could not breathe._

_She was suffocating and in blind panic, clawed at her face, feeling no pain though her nails scratched at her skin and tore away flesh._

_There was nothing there, she found, but still she could not breathe._

_She tried to scream, but nothing came out._

_Turning her head from side to side, it slipped away light water and light flooded her vision._

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Sakura blinked at the bright light as she woke up, breathing heavily and her chest heaving in the after effects of the dream. Something had been over her face, a fabric—it rubbed smoothly against her neck. She glanced down at it and rubbed the edge between her fingers. Someone had draped a red jacket over her, in lieu of a proper blanket. It was a man's, she could tell, by scent alone—she brought it to her mouth and inhaled men's cologne deeply, practically kissing the fabric. It was hot enough to have her sweating, so most likely she was covered in an attempt to keep the sun off her. She'd been on a night watch when they had been attacked, and her current clothes were not exactly proper in avoiding sunburn.

Trying to sit up, however, something constricted painfully in her chest and made it hard to draw breath. Sakura clutched her ribcage unconsciously, but when she tried to pull together some strength, the green light that usually engulfed her hand was only a faint glimmer that sputtered before fading. She inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Temari was perched on a small boulder a few feet away. She looked awake; seemingly completely unfazed by the excitement of the previous night except for gingerly way she held her arms.

Sakura blinked at her. "Good morning," she replied drowsily, as though they hadn't almost been killed; her voice was raspy from both sleep and overexertion. Behind her, something growled low and she felt it vibrate against her back. The woman turned and found she'd been curled into the curve of Temari's ferret-summons, Kamatari, who blinked lazily at her with its one good eye in the desert's dry heat. "Oh, good morning to you too." Sakura coughed to clear her throat. "Karin?" she asked hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.

Temari made a face. "Gaara."

"So he got here in time after all," said Sakura after a pause, finding the best of the situation and focusing on it. She tried to remember the previous evening—if it even still was the previous evening—but found that she couldn't recall anything past the start of healing Temari. She didn't even remember completely fixing Temari's arms. Picking at a fraying edge of the jacket, she sighed and coughed again. "What happened to me? After I slapped Karin, I don't remember anything," she admitted between coughs.

"Drink first," Temari implored boredly, tossing Sakura her canteen, "you're probably dehydrated." Sakura caught it on the fall and leaned back against Kamatari to sip the water slowly. It tasted wonderful, if a bit warm.

"I don't even know exactly what happened," Temari explained. "I was just as unconscious as you. But this is what I got from the men. Gaara got here after you passed out from chakra exhaustion, and Juugo bolted when he saw the rest of the squad coming. Karin was shaking something awful after your attack—pretty pathetic, I'd say. You only slapped her. But he completely bailed. The guys were able to contain her until Gaara got here. They assured me it was clean, at least." The woman's expression turned peculiar, but Sakura was unable to full place the emotion. "It wasn't Shiro, either, like we thought, it was Yemon. They found his body last night. There wasn't much damage done, but Eiji and Kenji are dead—same way as Yemon. Nobody else was badly hurt."

Against her will, tears clouded Sakura's vision and she blinked them away. "They were on watch on the other side of camp," murmured Sakura softly. She stroked absentmindedly at Kamatarai's neck, and the ferret made a pleased growling noise not much different from a purr. Temari's lips were drawn down in a frown, but her face gave nothing away. Both Yemon and Eiji were Suna ninja, and they probably had never spoken to the fan master before the assignment.

Before, Sakura would have called her callous, but now, she wished for the other women's emotional strength—it was a weak spot she'd tried to remove to no avail. "How long was I out?"

"A full day since I've been awake." The Suna kunoichi laced her fingers, reversed her hands and stretched them out before her. "My arms don't hurt, but they feel weird."

Sakura nodded. "It'll be that way for a while," she clarified, rubbing her hands along her ribs. The muscle there was sore, and when she lifted her shirt, the skin was a bluish-purple. "We can put the bone back into the socket, but it's common for it to feel like it doesn't set right in the beginning." She grimaced as she pressed too hard. "I think she broke two of my ribs."

"The bitch." Temari snorted and shook her head. "Naruto's squad is in Suna already, it's where we're heading too. They buried the bodies, picked us up and left. We've been on break for a while. We should be heading out again soon."

Sakura frowned. "My stuff?"

Temari shrugged apologetically. "They grabbed what couldn't be left, but everything not top-priority was left. We'll send out a recovery team for the rest when we get to Suna."

The pink-haired woman grimaced, but there was nothing she could do now. By then, looters would have their pick over the place. Nobody would bother stealing her medical books—they could be bought second-hand at any bookstore with a medical section. But the medical supplies were pricy. They'd fetch enough to keep a body fed for a month, and they'd surely already been sold on some underground trade market. "This sucks," she grunted, shifting awkwardly on the ground. She braced her hands on the ground to push herself to her feet, but her side ached so much it stole her breath away. At least two ribs, she corrected guess.

"Once again, we find ourselves in your debt."

Arms crossed, he blocked the glare from the sun, sending her into shadow and silhouetting himself. The gourd threw off his body proportion, causing him to appear larger than he was.

Sakura blinked and shifted in pain. "'Scuse me?"

Gaara wasn't looking at her but off into the distance. "You saved Kankurou's life, helped Chiyo-sama defeat Sasori to bring me back. Now you've healed Temari." Sakura's cheeks flushed with pride and embarrassment. She glanced down and fiddled with her shin-guards as a distraction. "Our family has indebted itself to you."

"It's nothing," she managed to stutter. She couldn't see where he was looking now, but something told her it was at her, and she inwardly flinched at the thought of his hard, intense gaze. "It's simply my duty as a medic."

Temari laughed, and Sakura remembered why she liked the woman so much. Something about her just made situations seem lighter. "Don't be so _modest_, Sakura-chan," she teased. "Not every medic can boast of saving the lives of three very important ninja from another village, especially a Kage. Give yourself some credit."

"But, I—"

"We'll be leaving shortly," interrupted Gaara, cutting her mumblings short as he glanced at Temari. "A storm is coming. Tomorrow, around mid-afternoon. It would be a waste of energy to linger when we can beat it." He sniffed the air before unfolding his arms. He began to walk away, then stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "Keep my jacket for now. Your attire isn't suitable for the desert afternoon."

He continued away, leaving a stunned Leaf-nin and a sighing Sand-nin. Sakura glanced down at the jacket she clutched between her fists and realized with slight horror that it was Gaara's. She couldn't believe she hadn't recognized it.

"You heard the Kazekage, up you go." Her voice sounded almost slightly sarcastic, and Temari got to her with a grunt, stretching her back with a series of muted cracks. She turned a grin to Sakura. "We should reach Suna in a few hours, sunset at latest. And you should probably put on Gaara's jacket. They didn't think to grab your cloak. You'll sunburn without covering."

With some difficultly, the two women managed to get Sakura on her feet. Standing taxed her. Her chest heaved laboriously, barely able to catch her breath. Her eyes watered furiously in the sunlight. The breathing problems made her dizzy, and she leaned heavily against Kamatari's side. The ferret-summon watched silently, accepting the extra weight without protest and never even growled when Sakura seized a fist-full of white fur to keep herself balanced. She got the jacket on by herself, but Temari had to help her with the front's multiple fastening—she'd obviously had practice.

Now that she'd taken time to pay attention, besides his scythe, Kamatari carried what few belongings of hers the men had grabbed: her weapons pack, her backpack and her flak jacket. While preparing to leave, some of the men gathered around them to inform Sakura how glad they were that she was all right. Tenzou seemed especially worried. She wondered if it was because he knew Kakashi would never forgive him should she be fatally injured under his watch. The entire time, Temari marched at her side protectively, as if she expected Sakura to collapse or seize suddenly. With her inability to properly breathe, even Sakura wasn't so sure she'd manage to finish the rest of the trip on her own two feet.

"Can't you heal yourself?" Jurou, one of the younger Sand shinobi asked when she pressed her fingers to her side.

Sakura smiled. "I drained myself dry on Temari. It'll be at least another day or two before I regain use of my chakra."

When Gaara rejoined them and instructed them to move out, Sakura straightened her back and pushed enough away from Kamatari that she stood without leaning, but the summons was within reach if she should stumble. Many of the men frowned openly at her obstinacy, but knew better than to say anything. Even Temari pursed her lips as she took in Sakura's limped gait. Tenzou hovered like a vulture, and when his presence became irksome, Sakura regained enough of her fiery temper to manage a glower.

"Enough already, I'm not a porcelain doll," she snapped, face flushing with more than just the heat. "Stop acting like I'm gonna bre—!" She tore off, screeching as her feet were swept out from underneath her. She closed her eyes and waited for the jarring impact that never came.

"Stop that."

His voice was far too close. She glanced up at him, opening one eye. "Put me down," she whispered meekly, ignoring the grin Temari had thrown her way.

He'd hooked her knees with the crook of an elbow, the other arm looped around her back. Gaara barely spared her a glance as he shifted her slightly, tightening his grip around her back, but still remaining loose enough to be proper. "We're on a schedule," he deigned to explain with a short sigh, meeting her shocked gaze. "Being stubborn to overcompensate for your injury will only worsen your condition and slow us down. We'll reach Suna much faster without condescending to your speed."

Sakura ignored the fact that she'd just been insulted and folded her arms gingerly across her chest, careful of her ribs. She hid her grimace behind the high collar of his jacket and closed her eyes, attempting to block out the sun's incessant heat. She felt pathetic and weak. And if Temari didn't wipe the shit-eating grin from her face, Sakura was going to dislocate her arms again for her.

* * *

_to be continued..._


	5. ano sa

**Author/Artist:** Hiko Mokushi / plural_entity.  
**Pairing:** Sabaku no Gaara x Haruno Sakura.  
**Community/Fandom:** **30_kisses**/Naruto.  
**Theme:** #5 — "ano sa" ("hey, you know...")  
**Rating:** PG-13, for language.  
**Disclaimer:** Kishimoto-sensei owns, of course. Joss owns the "humnow."

**Author Notes:** Every pretty much commented on how happy they were with the last chapter, and I know why, of course. Who wouldn't want Gaara to carry them across the desert AND get to wear his jacket? I think I'm gonna buy his cosplay jacket, just cause it's hot. (: I hope I can make everyone just as happy with the rest of the chapters. This one was slightly boring and slightly amusing to write.

A couple people asked why Karin attacked Sakura specifically, or why she thought Sakura killed Sasuke. I really have no reason, I just needed somebody to attack Sakura and injure her—Karin loved Sasuke, so it seemed easy to assume in the little world I've created, she's been participating in the rebellion. Give me time... Maybe for a later chapter, I'll randomly make up something cool. But at the moment, it was just one of those things that happened.

**

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**

Sakura knew it was slightly wrong, but she was glad to see some of the men from her squad struggling. The idea of being the only weak link, the only one slowing them down, didn't sit well with her.

Not that they were seriously injured. Two others had received broken ribs, though only together did their number match Sakura's, and one of the runners had a foot injury from a few days previous. She'd needed to reset his broken ankle a few hours in and after some under-breath arguing, Gaara allowed them a brief, unscheduled stop. By the time she had finished, Tenzou had crafted an elegant staff for her to use as a walking crutch. Without help, she walked to Kamatari's side just to prove she could. Some of the ninjas laughed and applauded; even Kamatari nuzzled his muzzle against her face, touching their noses in an Eskimo-kiss. After a few minutes of hobbling at the summon's side, Gaara had swept her feet out from under again.

Angrily, she asked if other shinobi injured under his watch were used to such consideration from their Kazekage.

Gaara did not condescend to answer her, but Temari assured her amidst giggles that she was receiving special treatment.

However, Sakura had to be honest with herself; if the blonde hadn't been out of arm's reach, she may have attempted strangulation. After a few silent, terse hours of travelling, the woman had begun to question Sakura. Questions with knack for being incredibly embarrassing, including topics she was sure the two of them had discussed at some point before. Sakura couldn't specifically remember when, but she was _sure_ they had.

"So Lee's in love with you, Naruto was for a while, anyone else get struck by the love-bug? Your sensei, maybe? I know you liked Sasuke, and you dated that Chuunin a while ago, but did you ever have the hots for anyone else? That one with the mutt, Kiba—he's cute. Probably wild in the sack."

Her steady stream was never-ending until Sakura finally shut her up, ears burning. "No! Ew, Kakashi-sensei?" She shook her head as much as she could. "He's cute and everything, in that puppy dog sort of way, but he's like my big brother. He practically raised me."

Temari frowned, disappointed expression giving Sakura the extreme impression that, given the chance, the woman could literally be another version of Ino. "No fraternizing with dog-boy, either?"

Sakura blushed crimson. "He panted after Ino."

"What a bummer. You could put all that master/pet pseudo-psychology to work."

"Enough." Gaara paused, and Temari snapped her mouth shut, though she looked mutinous. He shifted Sakura in his grip and she laced her fingers together in her lap, biting her lip.

He lifted his head and sniffed at the air, eyes shut. The rest of the group came to a steady stop around them as the redhead's eyes opened. "The wind has picked up, and it changed direction. We should find shelter."

"What do you mean?" asked Sakura, tense at his tone.

He didn't bother to glance down at her. "The wind carrying the sandstorm is travelling on a fresh breeze. It will reach us faster than I anticipated." He had the gall to look put out at them all; as if it was _their_ fault they had been unable to beat the storm, as he'd predicted they could. Of course, Sakura had found that with Gaara, everything was someone else's fault. Sakura tried to ignore the twinge of guilt for her participation in their slower speed and reminded herself vainly she was not the only one, and that the sandstorm was of little actual concern, only inconvenience. She could only begin to fathom Gaara's irritation when truly angered.

Glancing at the men gathered around him, he tilted Sakura on her side, and her feet found the desert floor with Temari there to stable her. Authoritatively, he called out to a few. "Ginta, Nishi, take a path north of us and scout for any safe location to wait out a sandstorm. Jigo, Hideki, take the south. Toru, come with me." He started away then glanced over his shoulder, his gourd weeping its own mini storm about him. "And Temari, don't let her out of your sight."

Sakura flushed, insulted. She did not need a babysitter. However, she did have the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him. Temari must have sensed her antagonism rising, her hand tightening where she gripped Sakura's upper arm, and Sakura resisted the compulsion.

Temari tapped her foot and hummed, gazing thoughtfully after her brother. "Hey, you know, he _may_ make a good husband after all."

Sakura blinked. "Humnow?" she sputtered. She had heard _nothing_ about this in all their months together. "He's engaged?"

"Oh, gods, no," Temari snickered, covering her mouth with her free hand. "Not yet, at least. Not if _he_ has anything to say about it. With all the attention the Suna women give him now, there were a few months where the Council tried getting him to take a bride. That was before all _this_ business, and Gaara managed to use it as a distraction. He scared the piss out of them enough that they are more concerned with Suna's safely now than with meddling and arranging marriages."

"An arranged marriage?" echoed Sakura, shivering almost at the thought. "I know it happens a lot, but for ninja...? It just seems so medieval. It leaves no chance for real love to blossom." At her own choice of words, she chuckled and gave a tiny shrug. "I sound like Lee now."

"Scary thought," Temari agreed. Then she sighed and glanced away, mumbling softly, "Everyone still remembers him as a jinchuuriki and not as a man. Considering what he was, it is unlikely he will ever be involved in a real love-match. Arrangement is the best bet." Belatedly, Sakura glanced at Gaara while Temari avoided her eyes. It was hot in the desert, especially in Gaara's jacket, but the older woman's words left her cold, and she was glad the Kazekage was out of earshot. "But he wants nothing to do with the whole idea. I think he plans to follow Ebizo-jiisama's footsteps and retire a bachelor, after his reign as Kage ends."

Gaara was just a blot in the distance, but Sakura felt comforted by the space—she was sure the man would not have appreciated the look of pity on her face.

While they waited, someone pulled out a pack of cards, and they played in the sand.

Sakura relished the feeling returning chakra brought. It lingered in the tips of her fingers, a gentle tingling sensation. The travel did not seem so difficult, now that she was conscious and had time to dry swallow half a ration. They were dry and practically tasteless, if a bit bitter. In the elapsing time, she had determined the extent of her own injuries—five broken ribs—and used what little energy she'd recovered to heal two of the five, wrapping her chest afterwards. Kamatari made a decent wall to change behind and while the taping made her chest irritatingly stiff, she'd regained a bit of the ability to breathe.

The atmosphere was light in the face of possible danger. Despite a slight wind increase, the sandstorm seemed far away. Many were considering moving on their own, but before they could persuade their fellows, Gaara had transported himself back in the middle of their fourth game, landing heavily on their pile of cards.

"Get up!" he snapped at them, the stand twitching around him in irritation.

Temari leaned back on her elbows. "Your storm isn't here, it's probably —"

"It is north of us," he said shortly, impatient with Sakura's slow rise. Sand pressed against her back and behind, lifting her with little effort. She stumbled on the balls of her feet. "Heading this direction. We need to go, now."

"It can't be that serious." Temari gave a loud grunt of protest when the sand began lifting her as well. "I'm no cripple, let me go." Gaara glowered fiercely in her direction and while she wavered slightly, Temari smirked triumphantly when the sand receded.

"If you would like to wait out the storm here, feel free." He walked to Sakura's side and wrapped an arm around her back. She blushed but only briefly, and he found her knees, hidden beneath his jacket, before easily lifting her. "There is a set of caves just south of here. Follow me there and be quick about it."

Temari's mutters were intelligible, but knowing the brash kunoichi, Sakura was sure it was nothing polite.

**

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**

_to be continued.._


	6. the space between dream and reality

**Author/Artist:** Hiko Mokushi / plural_entity.  
**Pairing:** Sabaku no Gaara x Haruno Sakura.  
**Community/Fandom:** 3**0_kisses**/Naruto.  
**Theme:** #6 — the space between dream and reality  
**Rating:** PG-13, for language.  
**Disclaimer:** Kishimoto-sensei owns, of course.

**Author Notes:** So yeah. Only been like _over a year_. I've been very busy with college—I just finished out my sophomore year and am currently on summer break now. I'm working about 30hrs a week, so I'm still busy. However, I was super happy to end the semester with a 4.0. Anybody who is excited to see this updated actually has **tricksie** (who reviewed _if we stare into oblivion_) and **hallmarktrinity** to thank for this update. I'm an English Literature major with a Creative Writing minor, so I've been focusing on my original and short stories instead of fanfiction. However, they're reviews were so kind, I actually went back and reread my stuff.

Also, I haven't paid attention to anything going on in current manga/anime, so just consider this a nice little AU situation about how things _could_ have gone. And once again, not beted because I don't have a beta. (: I'll reread it tonight after work and fix any mistakes you point out.

* * *

"Oh _no."_

One of the Sand shinobi from Gaara's unit—a pretty young man, with white-blond hair and a thin scar that ran the length of his left cheek—leaned over and dropped a kunai into the cavern. A full thirty seconds passed before they heard the light, tinny eco of a metal on rock. Mouth gaping in horror, Sakura leaned havily on the wooden cane Tenzou had fashioned, shaking her head. "Aw, _hell_ no."

Beside her, the corner of Temari's lips quirked up slightly. "C'mon, Sakura-where's your sense of adventure?"

"Oh. I'm _sorry_," snapped Sakura waspishly. "I must have forgotten to pack my suicidal tendencies. They're back at camp with all my _chakra_ and _supplies_."

Temari sniffed and crossed her arms over her ample chest. "Somebody's testy."

Sakura took a deep, anxious breath. "Can _you_ see the bottom?—because I can't. And really, how _do_ you expect me to jump down in the Giant Abyss of Doom with five broken ribs?"

"We'll just have Gaara use his sand to lower you down. Honestly. Gaara wouldn't have us here if he didn't think it was safe. You'll be fine."

". . . has _he_ seen the bottom?"

Temari pursed her lips and took a breath, and Sakura winced; certain that she'd just provoked the blond-haired kunoichi into a full-blown rant (which, in the past two years, she'd been on the end of quite a few). However, Tenzou stepped between them and placed a hand on the small of Sakura's back. She flinched, hands tightening on her cane and glanced away.

"Sakura-san, you'll be okay. If you'd like, I can go down before you to make certain everything is safe."

The pink-haired woman bristled. "I'm not a baby. You don't need to patronize me."

The sharp retort she expected never came, to her surprise—she was certainly being quite difficult. Tenzou simply took his hand away and held it up in a placating manner as he walked away. Temari snickered, and didn't even stop when Sakura fixed her with a glare.

"What is so funny?"

Temari shrugged. "He likes you."

"He does not!" protested Sakura in a hushed voice.

Chuckling, Temari lifted her hands in defeat. "Whatever you say," she conceded, "but admit—he has a definite eye out for you."

"He was in ANBU under Kakashi. And they have this _thing_ about keeping me safe."

Sakura shifted awkwardly, a cramp forming the balls of her feel. She lifted her free hand to her chest and settled it beneath her breast. Faintly, green chakra glowed at the tip of her fingertips. She grimaced, holding her breath. After a few seconds, she exhaled shakily and dropped her hand back to her side. She pressed her fingers into her hipbone in an attempt to hide the tremors.

"I always thought that healing was really the ultimate sort of ace in the hole," said Temari casually. If her eyes flicked down to the pink-haired woman's trembling hand, it was so fast that even Sakura couldn't see it. "But it's not all It's cracked up to be, is it?"

Sakura shrugged. "It has its advantages and disadvantages, like anything else." The woman raised her hand and held it out for Temari to better see the faint tremors in her fingers. "Normally, a few broken ribs would be child's play to fix, but after a depletion like after healing you? I'll be stressing my channels for a few days if I don't take the time to relax and recuperate. Really, all I need is a couple good meals, a hot bath, and some sleep."

"Perhaps you should stop overstressing youself."

Temari and Sakura turned as Gaara walked up behind them. Flushing, Sakura bit her lip to keep from making a snappy retort.

"Are we ready?" asked Temari.

Gaara nodded shortly. "My squad has secured the perimeter and found nothing suspicious. We should be safe here to wait out the windstorm. They will follow when the rest of are safely in the caves."

"Caves?" blurted Sakura.

Temari groaned silently. Gaara blinked at her. "It's a canyon—what did you expect to be at the bottom?"

"A stable floor?" she said uncertainly. Temari laughed, and Sakura blushed so deep she was sure she must match her hair.

"Gaara," said Temari, drawing the man's gaze from the pink-haired kunoichi, though she still chuckled. "Sakura can't jump down there with her ribs the way they are. Will you use your sand to lower her?"

The Kazekage nodded. "If I must."

Sakura leaned forward against her walking stick and crossed her arms. "Well, don't sound so thrilled about it," she muttered to herself, turning to the watch the assembling shinobi slowly gather around them. The already-familiar sensation of being gentled brushed by millions of grains of sand started around her torso. It started faintly and then tightened until it looked as though she were wearing a thick belt about her hips. She grabbed her stick firmly with both hands as she felt herself slowly start to rise. When she found herself directly over the chasm, her stomach flipped nervously.

"See you at the bottom!" called Temari, laughing at the expression on Sakura's face. "Don't let the sand fleas get you."

"Yeah, yeah, kiss my ass," said Sakura as the sand slowly lowered her out of sight.

Her field of vision slowly lessened, until the last vestiges of light no longer touched her, and her world was thrown into darkness, like being tossed into a nightmare. She sighed nervously, peering uselessly into the dark and tapped her fingernails against her cane.

"I fucking hate caves."

* * *

_to be continued…_


End file.
